


Said the Ninja to the King

by aeslis



Category: Final Fantasy VI
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 21:45:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5471774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeslis/pseuds/aeslis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Edgar knew Shadow long before the rest. But nobody else needs to know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Said the Ninja to the King

**Author's Note:**

  * For [starduchess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starduchess/gifts).



Edgar had known him for years. It was part of being a king in a backwards world; you fought to survive, and you used the tools you had at your disposal. Edgar was always skilled with his tools, and had no qualms about using them.

"I hear you're a good man for the money," Edgar said from his throne, the first time they met. He'd grown so used to his father's chair that he lounged against the arm, his chin set in his hand. 

Before him stood the man in black. He wore a mask, and there was no skin to be seen except a slice around his dark, thoughtful eyes. He had a set to his shoulders that made Edgar curious: confident, but heavy, like the world had settled its weight on him. At his feet sat a sharp-looking dog. Both of them radiated threat and power underneath their calm.

It was an audience of two. Edgar had asked his chamberlain to leave, although the wide empty throne room made him feel more vulnerable than he would have liked. Anything could be hiding up those dark sleeves.

When the man in black didn't answer, Edgar continued. "No one seems to know your name. What should I call you?"

"Shadow." The dog's ears twitched. It was the first thing he—Shadow—had said. His voice was low, raspy, and cool.

"Fitting," Edgar said, amused. "All right. I assume you're interested in the job, or you wouldn't be here, so I won't beat around the bush." Not that he would tell the whole truth, either. Shadow didn't need to know, and the less he knew, the less he could reveal when a higher bidder came in. "We've had an influx of people to Figaro and South Figaro. New subjects from all over the world. I assume they're coming because of how fabulous I am as a king—" He batted his eyes, grinning—"but I also need to be sure they're…" He waved his hand, searching for the right word. "Loyal." 

Shadow crossed his arms over his chest. "I see." The dog licked its lips, but otherwise kept its stillness.

"Fantastic. How much do you charge?"

"Ten thousand now. Ten thousand more if I give you news you don't like."

"Ack," Edgar said, and gripped at his chest. "My heart, I think it just stopped."

Shadow shrugged. "Take it or leave it. There are other jobs."

"You're a devil." Edgar looked at the dog, who looked right back at him. "Can I trust you to be… discreet?"

"You probably can't trust me with much," Shadow said, blunt. "After all, I work for whoever's paying me more."

Edgar frowned, thinking. If the Emperor was really planting spies in his cities, he needed to know. There was no one else he could ask.

Shadow waited, patient. Edgar couldn't sense deception in him. Just a deep quiet; a secrecy that bordered on religious.

Perhaps he was foolish. But when it came to the safety of his kingdom, the people came before everything. "Done."

—

Shadow had done other jobs for Edgar since then. Some small, (5,000g worth of small), and some large (Edgar didn't like to think about the taxes that had gone into those). But when it came to Figaro, Edgar would not, could not be a miser. 

And after two years and at least fifteen odd jobs, Edgar had learned absolutely zero about him.

This time he had sent Shadow to the east, into the mountains. Rumors had reached him of a secret Imperial base being set up between the peaks, even though it was Figaro land. Shadow had found it.

"And you started an _avalanche_?" Edgar guffawed, smacking his knee. "Brilliant!"

Shadow shrugged, a jerky, uncaring motion. There was nothing in his eyes to share the amusement. "I did what you paid me to do."

"Now now, don't place the blame on me," Edgar countered lightly. "I just said to make their job… difficult."

"Yes," Shadow said. "But we both knew what you meant."

There was a sudden quiet. It bit deep into Edgar's chest. Shadow understood him. Possibly, he understood exactly what Edgar was trying to do. "True enough," he admitted finally.

"My pay?" Shadow extended his hand.

"I think," Edgar said slowly, "that before I pay you, you'll have to suffer through a round of drinks with me." He stood from his throne, gathering his cape around himself. "And don't even think about saying 'no.' That's not an acceptable response when speaking to a king."

Edgar could swear he heard Shadow's mouth snap shut. And then, miraculously, he sighed. "Fine. But I'm charging you extra."

"But of course," Edgar grinned.

—

The castle tavern was well populated. Candace and Helena were dancing on the stage, and several of the waitresses waved and blew him kisses. Edgar caught one and pressed it to his cheek, winking after Lina, who bumped into a customer as she blushed and giggled.

Shadow and Interceptor hovered behind him. It was impressive how strongly Edgar could feel their presence. Maybe Shadow was doing it on purpose, he thought. Shadow was a ninja who disappeared at will, as invisible as a whisper in the wind. But right now, Edgar found it impossible _not_ to notice him.

Edgar had his own table, reserved permanently. It was right next to the stage, because, as he told everyone, how could he not want a front row seat of all those lovely legs? Shadow settled next to him, and Interceptor slunk under the table. Edgar suspected it was to keep people from stepping on his tail.

One drink, of course, led to four drinks. And then to another. And a couple after that. Edgar lost track. Shadow, irritatingly, was good at holding his liquor.

"How do you manage to drink so much, yet say so little," Edgar asked.

"Talent," Shadow supplied. He took another swallow. Edgar watched through blurry eyes, but the mask didn't seem to move.

"Kay," Edgar said. "So then. You have lots of talent, oh mystery man. Mystery man in black. Lots of black. Lots." He draped himself against the table and started re-arranging the mugs he'd polished off. "Morose—you're so morose, you know that. All in black, all the time… black dog, black clothes, black eyes."

Those black eyes cut sideways at him.

Edgar felt loose and warm in all sorts of ways. He could see the smooth shift of muscle as Shadow set down his glass. Edgar wanted to see what was under the mask; honestly, he wanted to see what was under the shirt. He wanted to know what made this man tick. He was too inhuman. Too untouchable. Edgar's mouth kept talking for him. "You fascinate me."

The room went on being noisy around them, but Edgar hardly noticed.

"The world carved you into a weapon. A good one. It isn't just skill. It's not just bloodthirsty… thirsty… stuff."

Edgar sensed, more than saw, the tightening of Shadow's self. He didn't stop talking. "You know what, it's strange. I think it's strange. That I trust you." He pointed an accusatory finger at Shadow, who, unsurprisingly, didn't move. Or at least, Edgar didn't think so; there were two Shadows now, and they were wavery, like Edgar was on a boat. But even for being wavery, they were sitting incredibly still. "All you do is take my money. But it's good. I mean, you're good. Not like you're on my side or anything, or any side, for anyone, and you could still probably stick a dagger in my back tomorrow morning. Hell, right now. You could do it. I'm in the middle of a crowded tavern and I'm King and you could do it because you're hard as steel and I can tell you give zero fucks. But I trust you. Why?"

"You shouldn't." There was a hint of warning there. 

" _Clearly_ ," Edgar said. "I'm not a fool, even when I'm drunk, thank you very much."

Shadow took another long swallow of his drink. Edgar opened his mouth to go on, but Shadow spoke before he could. "I never thought you were a fool."

It was so strange to hear him voice an opinion that Edgar was momentarily stunned. "I—you don't?"

Shadow wouldn't look at him. Beneath the table, Interceptor started to growl. Edgar quickly yanked his feet away in case he'd upset the dog somehow, but no—Shadow stood up abruptly, and Interceptor reappeared from his hiding spot, like oil flowing to Shadow's side. "I'll collect my pay in the morning."

Then both man and dog disappeared, fading into the sound and fury of the tavern as if they had never been there at all.

—

In fact, it took several days before Edgar saw Shadow again, and when he did, it was completely out of context. 

Edgar was on the ramparts, overseeing repairs to the northeast tower. The sun was beating down hard, and Edgar could feel sweat under his armpits and all through his hair. But it was worse for the men with their hammers and cement. Edgar just had to stand, watch, and direct.

"What I wouldn't give for a parasol," Edgar muttered to his retainer. "You think we could start manufacturing those? I'll put them into fashion. All the ladies will want one."

Joshua didn't answer. And when Edgar turned to find out why, he discovered Joshua lying face up on the ground, unconscious. Shadow stood next to him.

Edgar raised an eyebrow. "What an understated, yet flashy entrance. That was perhaps not necessary. But hello."

"You shouldn't trust me," Shadow said. He wore so much black it hurt to look at. Edgar was hot enough as it was, all in whites and with his cape to ward off the sunlight, hair pulled into a ponytail and off his neck. He could only imagine how Shadow must be roasting.

"Was that really so urgent to tell me that you had to knock out my man? I have visiting hours, you know." 

Shadow took a step toward him, and Edgar had to stop himself from taking an involuntary step back. He stood a little taller, gathering his royal air against the challenge. "Careful, Shadow."

"He'll use me against you," Shadow said, his words precise, full of danger. This was not the cool, disinterested tone that Shadow always spoke in. 

Edgar's skin prickled, catching Shadow's urgency. "Gestahl? What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said. Don't trust me. Don't call me." He paused, standing close, his body so wired it was as if he might jump into flight. But he hesitated. Edgar had never seen Shadow hesitate. "If you step out of place, he will use me against you."

Their eyes met, and held. And there was a flash of something—Edgar stared, realizing that it was misery, and self-loathing. Years of it, suddenly there, fresh and rich, enough to drown in. Miles and miles deeper than Edgar's own. For a second, Edgar couldn't breathe.

Shadow grabbed Edgar's wrist, and Edgar startled. They had never touched before. Shadow's fingers were too tight, but Edgar didn't try to yank free. His heart rattled against his ribs. "I won't see you again. If I do, run."

Shadow turned.

"Wait!" Edgar grabbed after him, just managing to catch the back of Shadow's tunic before he jumped over the edge of the ramparts. "You—" He swallowed against the thickness in his throat as Shadow turned, looking over his shoulder. There was too much swirling through Edgar's mind, and though he'd always been eloquent, there was no way to turn it into words. "I'll trust you. And I hope… I hope one day, I do see you again."

It wasn't enough. It wasn't what he really meant: that somehow, Shadow understood him. That Edgar was alone here on the top, without his brother, without his parents. That the women were kind, and they loved him, but that kind of love was not enough. That Shadow was clever and curious, and Edgar could sense the same loneliness, although Shadow wrapped it around himself like a familiar blanket, letting that loneliness rule him in a way that Edgar could never give in to. 

That he wanted to see further into Shadow. And he wanted Shadow to see further into him.

"Then you really are a fool," Shadow said. And he jumped from the wall, leaving Edgar alone.

Alone for three long years.

—

The moment they walked into the tavern in South Figaro, Edgar knew Shadow was there.

Not that he was hiding. He was just standing at the bar, with the barkeep pacing frantically back and forth, mopping the counter and polishing glasses and pretending very poorly that he wasn't frightened out of his wits. Shadow had grown more of a reputation over the years.

Locke walked right up to the bar, right up to Shadow, and tried to talk to him. "Hey," he said to Shadow, and Edgar's heart skipped a beat. Edgar knew Locke wasn't the most observant, but really. Terra, half hidden behind Edgar, was doe-eyed at the scary man and his big dog, which was the appropriate response. Then again, she was currently terrified of everything, so he supposed he shouldn't be pointing at her as a role model.

Predictably, Shadow said nothing. He didn't even turn around.

Locke's voice lost some of its friendly tone. "At the very least you could give me a response."

God, Edgar thought. He was going to get himself shivved. 

He grabbed Locke and pulled him away, leaving Terra on the other side of the room. "He looks familiar!" he whispered to Locke urgently. "Give me a minute." He pretended to think, turning to look at Shadow's silhouette against the bar. Just as lanky, muscled, and clothed in black as before. It was as if three years hadn't gone by at all.

Except that Shadow wasn't acknowledging Edgar's presence. Which, considering the way they'd parted last time, was probably a good thing.

Locke was looking at Edgar like he was nuts.

Edgar snapped his fingers, as if remembering. "That's Shadow," he said. And then to drive the point home, he added, "He'd slit his mama's throat for a nickel!" Best keep them all apart. It wouldn't do to have to confront Shadow now, especially when he was going out of his way to pretend Edgar wasn't there.

Which meant he wanted Edgar to live. Or at least, Edgar hoped.

Locke nodded, though reluctantly. "Better steer clear of him, I guess."

As he followed Locke and Terra out the front door, Edgar took a final glance over his shoulder. Interceptor had dropped down to the floor, and his head rested on his paws. His tail flicked once when he caught Edgar's eyes. 

"I'm glad you're alive, Shadow." It was just a whisper. No one would hear. 

He followed his friends out into the sunlight. They had other things to do.

\--

Of course, he never expected Shadow to join their cause. Especially not for _free_.

"They tried to off me as soon as I outlived my usefulness," Shadow said, breathing hard. There was a gash in his side, blood turning his tunic deep maroon. It was more of Shadow's skin than he'd ever seen, and for some reason, that made Edgar furious. There was something sacred about the way Shadow contained himself and hid from the world, and the Emperor had violated that.

Mog set one furry paw against Shadow's side, and light radiated around them. Shadow's wound healed, the skin stitching back together beneath Mog's touch.

Shadow glanced up. Edgar tried to relax, but he realized his mouth was pressed in a thin line. It was too late to pretend he hadn't been worried.

"We thought you were a goner," Terra said. She wasn't so rabbity near him now; she'd grown, tall and steady, like a tree planted in good soil. 

"Is Interceptor all right?" Shadow wasn't looking at him anymore, but Edgar felt like the question was directed at him.

"He's fine," Edgar said, and slid his hand under Shadow's bicep, hauling him up. "C'mon, let's go."

—

But they failed.

The world cracked. The sky turned orange.

Their ship was torn asunder.

The last he saw of Shadow was a black speck, dropping into the ocean.

—

Hope was a tricky thing. Edgar fully admitted to himself that he hadn't hoped to see his friends again, not after a catastrophe like the end of the world. But it wasn't like he could do nothing. He was alive, and he had two legs and two arms and his mind, and Figaro was out there somewhere.

So he found it. And in the process, his friends found him.

—

Shadow didn't knock. Somehow, Edgar found that entirely appropriate.

"Why don't you just let yourself in then," he said, and gestured expansively around the small room Setzer had graciously designated as his. "Have a seat."

Shadow sat. Edgar blinked. He'd fully expected Shadow to keep standing in the middle of the room. It went with his mysterious, aloof persona. Sitting upon invitation did not.

They had avoided each other, mostly. It was hard to do aboard an airship with ten other passengers, and Edgar wasn't the kind of person who just stayed in his room. Neither was Shadow, it turned out. Edgar kept finding him aboveboard, leaning against the rails, staring impassively towards the horizon, the wind whipping the tails of his bandana. ( _That_ fit his persona perfectly.)

But Shadow had never sought him out. And Edgar, for any number of reasons that were really just excuses, hadn't either.

"To what do I owe this… ah, visit?" Edgar found himself a chair as well. It wasn't a throne, but then, they'd erased those lines a long time ago.

There was a different air to Shadow now. He was still quiet. There was still pain. But that slant of his shoulders was broader; he wore confidence more closely. Edgar wondered what had changed.

And then there was the way he acted around the girl. Perhaps it was only Edgar that noticed. 

"You told me once," Shadow started, his eyes pinned on Edgar, and Edgar met his gaze without flinching. "You hoped to see me again one day."

Edgar was suddenly struck by a sense memory: the heat of the ramparts of Figaro, the unconscious man at his feet. The misery and anger that swirled around them. The desperation, and muddy confusion, of his own thoughts. "Oh, that. Yes. I recall saying that."

The look that Shadow was giving Edgar now was not the same as it had been then; there had been fear then, and now there was not. Now, Shadow wasn't stuck inside himself. He was seeing into Edgar. Edgar shivered at how vulnerable Shadow could make him feel. But he was stubborn; he didn't look away.

"I've been watching you."

"Creepy," Edgar said. "You sound like a stalker."

Shadow laughed. 

Edgar couldn't help it—he blinked. "Goodness, you're full of surprises today. I didn't know you could laugh."

"You've been watching me too, don't deny it. So we're a pair of stalkers."

Edgar's mouth opened, and shut. Then he laughed, too. A great barrel laugh from his gut, and his palm smacked his knee heartily. "Touché! A pair of stalkers we are." He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair, grinning in full. "And so, your point? You must have one."

"You trusted me," Shadow said. "When I shouldn't have been trusted at all. When you knew better."

Edgar frowned. "You were right, though. I was a fool for it."

"You were," Shadow agreed calmly. "But it was what I needed, more than I knew."

Slowly, Edgar nodded. "Then it was foolishness well spent."

Shadow was still watching him. "I learned something about you, when I was working for you."

"I'm sure you learned many things," Edgar said mildly. "Far more than I learned about you."

Shadow inclined his head in acknowledgement. "There were some rumors."

Edgar's brows went up. "Rumors? About me? I'm sure there were plenty, given that I'm a public figure. And very popular, of course. Not to brag. But you can't believe everything you hear."

"True," Shadow admitted. "And I know enough to not listen to the ones that aren't true. But this one? This one was."

Edgar went quiet. They stared at each other across the short distance of the room. No, I wasn't possible. No one knew—not even Sabin. Not that Sabin had been around a lot lately, but that was beside the point. His secret was safe. Edgar had been very careful to keep his attention on all the women. The rumors were always about which girl he fancied, and who he might make his queen.

None of which were true. So those weren't what Shadow meant.

Shadow waited.

Which only left one other option.

"What rumor is this?" Edgar said finally, his voice in his throat.

Shadow shrugged. "You hadn't heard? Just a whisper, here and there—almost buried in all the talk about who you'll marry, and how handsome you are. But some people say their king talks a big talk… and then never follows through." Edgar fought not to let his surprise show on his face. "How very curious it is. A king that loves women so much, and yet doesn't want to be with any of them."

Edgar's heart was a timpani, ready for an orchestra. So Shadow knew. Of course he did; Shadow had worked too closely with Edgar, and he was too observant.

 _Think, Edgar._ Why would Shadow tell him this? There was nothing in it for him, nothing to gain. Not unless…

Was it possible? Edgar's gaze sharpened on Shadow. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes were set on Edgar, challenging. Waiting. "All right," Edgar said, carefully. "So, you've seen through me. What now, Shadow?"

"I thought you ought to know," Shadow said, just as carefully. "That someone else is keeping your secret." He wouldn't spell it out, but the message was there, bright as day, beneath his words.

Cleverly said, thought Edgar, and he began to smile. 

After all, why fight something that he had wanted for a very, very long time? Especially when Shadow was giving him as open an invitation as he was going to get. He stood, and unfastened his cape, draping it over the back of his chair.

There were only two steps between Edgar and Shadow. Shadow sat, arms crossed over his chest, his eyes tracking Edgar's approach. He stayed still as Edgar's hand settled on the side of his face, undoing the tie that kept Shadow's mask on.

Finally, he would see what lay beneath.

A nose, scarred, slightly crooked. A straight, strong jaw, feathered with stubble from several days without shaving. Slender lips that quirked just-so, half a smirk and half a smile. 

An entirely appropriate face for the man Edgar had grown to know.

Then he slipped his fingers beneath Shadow's bandana, pushing it off, revealing a wealth of brown-blond hair, messy now that it was free. Edgar let both the mask and bandana fall to the floor. 

He set his thumb against Shadow's bottom lip, and tucked a finger beneath Shadow's chin, forcing him to raise his face. "You told me once," Edgar murmured, remembering, "that I shouldn't trust you."

One of Shadow's brows lifted, a silent gesture of acknowledgement.

"I think you'll have to revise that statement, now that you're holding my deepest secrets." And Edgar bent, closing the distance between them.

—

The beds on the Falcon were not for two people, but Edgar would make it work. He shucked off all of Shadow's black, and found the man underneath: wiry muscle, sinew, and scars. So many scars his skin was a map, with treasure buried everywhere.

Before Edgar even knew it, his clothes were off as well; the benefit of taking a ninja to bed. 

He pushed Shadow into the mattress. He had never in his life been on bottom, and he wasn't about to start now. But Shadow melted into the bed without a word, and Edgar bent down, putting his mouth to Shadow's neck, to his Adam's apple, claiming. 

Shadow's fingers slipped along Edgar's spine, and then clawed down his thighs. Edgar moaned, pleased, pushing his forehead into Shadow's shoulder.

"Are you going to be a devil in bed, too?" he muttered.

"Devil is as devil does." He pulled Edgar's hips down against his own, and Edgar's brain short circuited. It had been too long. He was hot all over.

Their cocks slid against each other. It was hot, sweaty, and he felt as charged as all the machinery of Figaro. Shadow grabbed him, his fingers deep in Edgar's shoulder blades. It was painful but that only spurred Edgar on—he had never wanted it gentle.

Shadow wasn't vocal. He was too much a ninja to be so obvious, but it was the way he jerked when Edgar pulled at him, the way he hissed as Edgar bore down, that told Edgar how much he wanted it. It was fitting, Edgar thought. Shadow's body answered him, messy, smooth as liquid. 

The bed thumped recklessly against the wall, and Edgar didn't even care.

—

They had done it. Kefka was dead. The tower was coming down around them, and Terra was flying.

She was radiant. So strong, so pure, and so magical. The pink of her skin was a star in the sky, rushing against the wind and against time. Edgar held onto the Falcon for dear life as Setzer careened through the clouds.

The magicite in Edgar's coat flashed, and spun up into the air. Within a moment, it had broken into sparkling dust.

"Terra!" Celes called, her voice choked by the wind. "Your strength! It's dying!"

But if Terra heard her, she wasn't ready to give up. Not even as she started to sag in the air, her speed dropping and gravity starting to pull her down.

"SETZER," Edgar called. His hair whipped around his face. Some of it was in his mouth.

"I know I know!"

Edgar's stomach jumped into his throat as the Falcon plummeted into a nosedive. He was going to be quietly sick in a very dignified way once this was all over.

What felt like an eternity later, the Falcon evened out. Edgar was flat on his face on the deck. He took a slow, even breath, then another. His stomach didn't feel right side up, but he was mostly sure it wasn't going to turn inside-out on him. Carefully, he looked around. His friends were in varying states of disarray around him. Celes's hair had taken on a life of its own, tangled all around her, and Locke's nose was smashed against the floor.

Edgar set his feet under him and cautiously stood.

"Terra!" Celes burst out. Edgar turned, his heart in his throat. Had Setzer missed Terra?

Celes was on her feet, panicked, turning every which way. Every ounce of her military background was gone, emotion all over her. And then they saw Terra, collapsed in a heap near the prow, her sea green hair wild against her star-pale skin.

"Terra!" Celes was at her side in a moment, and Edgar felt his pulse slow again. They were safe. They were all safe. And Kefka was dead. He turned, looking for Shadow.

Shadow wasn't behind him. He turned the other way, where Locke and Celes were helping Terra up. Shadow wasn't there either.

Interceptor barked, and Edgar's eyes homed in on him. He was next to Relm.

He was next to Relm.

And Shadow wasn't there.

—

A week later, they all gathered one last time, in Thamasa. There was a new grave now, next to General Leo's, though this one didn't have the ornate sword as a figurehead. Edgar had insisted that the gravestone should be quiet. Plain. Shadow would not have wanted to stand out.

Interceptor, who now trailed after Relm as a duckling might its mother, seemed to understand. He walked up to the grave and sat right at its foot. Shadow wasn't in it; they had no body to bury. So they had gathered up small mementos that reminded them of Shadow. A ninja star, a black tunic. A painting Relm had done. There wasn't much.

Relm set her hand on Interceptor's head.

"He was good," Locke said, a troubled pinch between his eyes. At his side, Celes stretched out her fingers, taking Locke's hand in her own.

Sabin puffed out his chest and let the breath out slowly. Edgar had heard, though not in much detail, how Shadow had helped Sabin when he had been swept away into the wilderness. "I never quite knew what was going on in his head," Sabin admitted, "but I trusted him to watch my back."

"Yes," agreed Terra, subdued. She smiled sadly, and then wrapped her arms around Relm's shoulders. Relm sagged against her. "I didn't understand him much either," she admitted, "but when a man is so loved by his dog, I think that means he's a man that's worth love."

Edgar's eyes itched. He wasn't going to cry. "I trusted him with everything," he said. 

Beside him, Strago cleared his throat. "He was a man haunted." Strago was more solemn than Edgar had heard him be before. He glanced up sharply, but Strago was looking beyond them all. "Perhaps his past caught up with him."

"Gramps, that's cold!" Relm said, glaring the glare of a true ten year old. 

"Ah, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Strago said, contrite. He stroked his hand down his fuzzy white beard in a habitual gesture. It never actually smoothed his whiskers. "I only meant that perhaps, he finally felt he'd made amends."

He sounded like he knew something else, something more than the rest of them. Edgar thought of the terrible weight Shadow had carried when they first met, and the different confidence he'd worn the last few nights on the Falcon. Maybe what Strago was saying had merit.

He watched Strago closely for another moment, thoughtful. What did the old man know? And then his gaze swept to Relm and Interceptor. Relm's hand stroked unconsciously down Interceptor's muzzle, and the dog licked gently at her fingers.

The world rearranged itself in that brief moment, and pieces clicked into place.

 _Oh,_ thought Edgar. He stared.

"It is time," said Cyan.

Sabin took up the shovel, and started filling the grave with dirt. Edgar watched as each great bit of earth scattered into the hole they had dug. As the sun slowly went down, the grave filled.

At the base of the grave was the stone they had chosen.

  
_Here Lies a Man_  
Who Was Brave  
And Died  
To Let the World Live  
Rest In Peace  
Shadow

There was nothing more to say. As the sun disappeared behind the trees, Edgar turned to Sabin and set his arm around his brother's shoulders. Together, they walked back to Thamasa.

To a new chapter, in a new world.

—

 

EPILOGUE

After so much loud, it was quiet.

He had broken bones. His ribs, his arm. Probably some of his toes. He inhaled, and it hurt.

Pain meant he was alive.

He licked chapped lips, and blinked at the sky. How long had he been here?

Slowly, carefully, he pulled himself up from the rubble.

He was alone. Completely, utterly alone. Not even the bark of a dog against the night.

He took another breath, the fresh air of the new world filling his lungs.

He looked up at the sky, at the stars. There were thousands. Thousands. And they were all watching him. It felt a little bit like forgiveness. 

"Baram. Thank you."

He would need food. Water. His bones, he thought, would heal. If the fall hadn't killed him, then maybe he wasn't meant to die yet.

No, he thought. He wasn't meant to die yet.

Clyde was still alive.

He turned his feet north. Toward Figaro.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this!! I know this is perhaps not as sexy as you had hoped, but I really wanted to explore just how Edgar and Shadow might have formed a bond. And I had a lot of fun writing it. <3 Edgar is just way too much fun.
> 
> Special thanks to my beta, who knows who she is--even though she's never played FFVI she jumped in here with me twice and caught all my egregious typos. Truly, a wonderful person.


End file.
